


The Air Between Them

by dreamdustmama



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamdustmama/pseuds/dreamdustmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The words don't register at first, they're just empty sounds, meaningless, disappearing into the air between them.  Bradley stares at Colin uncomprehendingly, blinks as he struggles to understand.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Air Between Them

They're running lines in Bradley's hotel room.

Colin is sprawled out on his stomach on the bed, brow creasing and lips moving silently as he reads over the newest script. Bradley watches him from beneath his eyelashes, propped against the headboard with his own copy spread out over his lap. The room is quiet, comfortable. Colin's fingers slide over the white pages, tapping a stark black line every now and then.

He looks up, catches Bradley staring, fingers stilling. "What?"

Bradley blinks, tries not to flush. "Erm. You've got a little—from dinner." He gestures vaguely in the direction of his own face and Colin automatically swipes his hand over his mouth, fingers rubbing down over his chin.

"Did I get it?"

"Yeah," Bradley says, and drops his eyes to his script. "Yeah, you got it."

He glances up a few minutes later to see Colin absently lick his middle finger and turn the page. His breath hitches.

~*~

Bradley can see waves of heat shimmering through the air, the glare of the sun gleaming off the heavy chainmail he's been wearing all day. His hair is damp with sweat, falling across his eyes and curling around his ears. Arthur's tunic is sticking to his back beneath the mail.

They've been filming the same scene for hours and Bradley is exhausted. It's both physically demanding and emotionally charged, a battle and a confrontation, but Arthur will finally—_finally_—discover Merlin's magic.

The director calls for a break and Bradley gratefully heads for a shaded area under a nearby tree. He leans against it, closes his eyes, breathes. Eventually he looks up and glances around, jumps when he sees Colin standing next to him.

"Where'd you come from?" Bradley asks, going for a joking tone though his heart stops for a moment.

A small, amused smile curves Colin's mouth and he holds out a water bottle. "Thirsty?"

Bradley reaches for it gratefully. "Thanks," he says, and nearly chokes when Colin's fingers brush across his. He swallows, hand clenching involuntarily around the cool plastic, suddenly grateful for the heat of the day.

"No problem," Colin says casually, but there's an odd glint in his eye as he lets go.

~*~

Angel drags them all out to a local pub, citing death by sobriety if they don't get some alcohol into their systems _now_. Bradley is glad for the distraction, and Colin seems just as eager to relax a little. There's a weird sort of energy between them lately and it's making Bradley's stomach clench unpleasantly.

Angel buys the first round, Katie the second. Colin snags the third, and by the time they've reached the fourth Bradley is just drunk enough to buy the fifth and sixth along with it. He downs all three shots one after the other. Colin's side is inches away from his, their legs casually pressed together under the table.

Katie and Angel are laughing at something on the other side, Colin leaning across to grin at them. His fingers are playing with an empty shot glass, spinning it in circles on the wooden top of the table. Bradley closes his eyes, lets his arm brush against Colin's. His head is buzzing, heavy with the alcohol and a vague sense of something he can't identify.

He doesn't register when the other three go quiet, doesn't realize he's missing something until suddenly there are hands under his shirt, long fingers trailing up and over his ribs. He jumps, eyes flying open in panic as he twists away and nearly tumbles out of his chair.

The hands disappear and Bradley struggles to draw in unsteady breaths. Angel and Katie are laughing hysterically, leaning on each other for support. Colin is grinning, lopsided and mischievous, but there's an edge to it that Bradley isn't sure he likes.

"Fuck you," he mutters to the table at large, and orders another round.

~*~

They're filming a scene in Arthur's bedchambers when one of the big overhead lights flickers and goes out. The director immediately starts cursing and orders them not to move a single inch. Bradley has already frozen, as has Colin. They're standing face to face, Colin inches away because Merlin is about to help a wounded Arthur change his tunic.

His fingers are wrapped around the bottom hem of the shirt, preparing to lift it over Arthur's head, and neither of them are allowed to move.

Colin is gazing at him steadily and Bradley stares back. A tiny, tiny smirk twists Colin's lips and suddenly he's rubbing the material of the tunic between his fingers. The movement is slight, nobody else can possibly tell what's going on, but Bradley can feel it in the shift of fabric against his skin. He swallows again and sets his jaw, very carefully not moving.

Colin quirks an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"Not a thing," Bradley answers tightly.

Colin makes a soft, almost thoughtful noise, and Bradley's breath catches in his chest when he feels the barest brush of fingertips over his skin.

~*~

Afterwards, Bradley locks himself in the bathroom and wanks. It's hard and fast, unforgiving, and when he comes he stuffs his fist in his mouth and bites down.

~*~

It's late and they're all in Katie's room. They've got Chinese and beer and bad 90's movies, and Bradley has finally started to relax for the first time in weeks. They're halfway through the second film and it's already ten-thirty; they've got another two to go before they're allowed to call it a night.   
Angel and Katie are side-by-side on the bed, on their stomachs, laughing over some ridiculous article in a magazine. Colin is beside Bradley on the floor, both of them leaning back against the foot of the bed. Their knees are touching, just barely, elbows brushing every now and then. Colin has his other knee bent, arm draped over it, fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of his beer bottle.

Bradley keeps his eyes on the telly.

Part of him is expecting it, despite not thinking about it, so when he suddenly feels a hand slide up the back of his t-shirt he does nothing more than stiffen. His hand tightens around his own beer bottle and his jaw clenches, shoulders tensing, and he very determinedly does not look at Colin. The hand is low on his back, unmoving, just above the top of his jeans.

Bradley continues to stare at the screen on the television but nothing on it registers. He controls his breathing, deep in slow out, eases his jaw. The hand moves, slides upward, fingers spreading wide over his skin, and he swallows. His shirt rides up in the back and he can suddenly feel the cool air of the hotel room.

Beside him Colin is relaxed, perfectly at ease. He stares at the telly, takes a drink of his beer. Bradley glances at him unwillingly and can't look away. He takes in the sweep of thick lashes, full lips, the line of his nose, his jaw, the shadows under his cheekbones, the tousled mess of black hair. The hand on his back moves, shifts, and now there are fingers tracing patterns over his skin, sliding up his spine.

Bradley's carefully controlled breathing hitches and before he can stop himself he shivers.

And just like that a smirk appears on Colin's face, gone in an instant but it was _there_, and Bradley is suddenly very, very angry. He jerks away, slams his drink on the floor, stands. The girls go quiet, blinking at him in surprise, and Colin stares up at him with wide eyes. His hand is now flat on the floor where Bradley had just been sitting.

"You," he snaps at Colin, "are the biggest bastard I have ever met. So you can just fuck off with your stupid fucking games and leave me the fuck alone."

Colin's expression has gone stunned and there is something like hurt confusion in his eyes. "Bradley—"

But Bradley ignores him, turns on his heel and walks out, slams Katie's door behind him.

Colin doesn't follow.

~*~

There's a soft knock on his door three hours later. Bradley closes his eyes, blocks out his view of the ceiling, hopes that if he doesn't answer he'll be left alone. But the longer he waits the louder and more insistent the knocking becomes, until finally he's forced to answer just to keep the other hotel occupants from filing a complaint.

Unsurprisingly, Colin is on the other side. He looks unhappy but determined, sets his jaw when Bradley glares at him. "Can I come in?"

Bradley scowls, seriously considers saying no. But it's _Colin_ so he steps aside and lets him through. He doesn't say anything, closes the door and faces him, crosses his arms. Colin stares at him and Bradley stares back.

"Look," Colin eventually huffs, "I'm not exactly sure what I did to make you so angry—" Bradley narrows his eyes and Colin hastily continues, "—but I'm sorry, whatever it was."

"You're sorry," Bradley repeats flatly.

Colin raises his eyebrows. "Yes," he says in clear exasperation, "because apparently we weren't at all on the same page."

"Apparently not," Bradley says coldly, stomach twisting painfully. "I sure as hell didn't realize you could be so cruel. But now I know, and I won't make that mistake twice."

Colin stares at him in shock. "Cruel?" he repeats in obvious disbelief. "When have I ever been—" He breaks off, eyes widening. "Oh god," he says blankly. "You thought I was teasing you."

"Because you were," Bradley bites out. "I'm not fucking stupid. I know what you were—"

"You are," Colin interrupts, eyes flashing. "You are an absolutely _stupid_ fuck. I can't believe you honestly thought I would do that to you."

"You _were_ doing it!" Bradley yells, his cold calm quickly dissolving into pain and fury. "Almost every fucking day you found a way to touch me, to let me know that you knew but didn't _want_—"

Colin cuts him off, crosses the space separating them, kisses him full on the mouth. Bradley freezes, shocked to his core, but when Colin's tongue slides past his lips he finally moves. He fists his hands in Colin's shirt and pushes him away, slams him into the wall, enjoys the grunt of surprise.

"You fucking shit," Bradley hisses. "What do you want from me? You want to fuck? Think I'll be an easy lay?" He laughs bitterly and releases Colin's shirt, stepping back. "Sorry," he says with sarcastic anger. "I'm not into being someone's whore."

He's not expecting it when Colin's fist connects with his jaw, and he stumbles back, nearly loses his balance. Bradley stares in shock and Colin flexes his hand, glaring at him with more anger than Bradley can ever remember seeing.

"You might want to shut the fuck up before saying something you won't be able to take back," Colin warns, voice low and dangerous.

"You hit me," Bradley says stupidly.

Colin sighs and all of the anger drains from him, leaves him looking sad and defeated. "Don't you get it?" he asks quietly. "I _love_ you, you bastard."

The words don't register at first, they're just empty sounds, meaningless, disappearing into the air between them. Bradley stares at Colin uncomprehendingly, blinks as he struggles to understand. But then he does—he does and everything clicks into place, makes his eyes slide shut and his breath shorten.

"My god," he chokes out. "I am the biggest idiot that ever existed."

There is a huff of breath from Colin, not quite a laugh, but maybe, almost. Bradley feels careful fingers trail over his jaw and swallows, opens his eyes to see Colin looking at him with regret and hope.

"That'll probably bruise," Colin says, hesitantly curving his fingers over the bone and into the shadow of Bradley's neck.

"Probably," Bradley manages, and something shifts between them.

He's expecting it this time when Colin kisses him, wet and messy and deep, so he opens his mouth and allows himself to let go. Colin still has one hand on his jaw, slides the other one under his shirt. Fingers drift over his skin, along his ribs, makes Bradley shiver and arch his back. His hands clutch at Colin's hips, pulls him closer to feel the effect he's had.

Colin groans, fingers digging lightly into Bradley's side. "God," he gasps as he pulls away, dropping kisses along his jaw. When he reaches Bradley's ear he grins against it, whispers darkly, "I'm going to fuck you with my fingers until you come, and then fuck you with my cock."

Bradley chokes, buries his head in Colin's neck, tries to control his body's reaction. "Yeah," he says, strangled. "Okay."

Colin steps back, slides his hand from beneath Bradley's shirt just to twist his fingers in the hem and _pull_, walking backwards until they reach the bed. "Get naked," he orders, and then, "No, wait. Leave the shirt on."

Bradley shudders, reaches for the fly on the jeans he never bothered to take off earlier. He's already barefoot so he lets the jeans and his boxers slide to the floor, kicks them to the side. Colin's eyes are trailing over his body, tongue darting across his lips. He looks up and meets Bradley's gaze.

"On the bed."

~*~

When Colin presses that first long finger into him Bradley has to struggle not to lose control. His cock is already so hard it hurts, trailing precome over his stomach and the bottom of his shirt. He's got his hands raised above him, twisted tightly in the pillow beneath his head. Colin is kneeling between his spread thighs, completely naked, cock just as hard as Bradley's.

"I've imagined this so many times," Colin says softly, eyes trained on his finger as he works it in and out. "Touching you like this, feeling you—"

"Shut. Up." Bradley says through gritted teeth, flushes when Colin looks up at him in question. "I would like to make this last, if you don't mind."

"Would you now?" Colin smirks, adds a second finger, twists them.

Bradley groans, arches his hips up. He's done this plenty of times before but it's never felt like this, never been _Colin's_ fingers inside him, _Colin's_ promise to fuck him into the bed. The thought is nearly overwhelming so he opens his legs further and focuses on the physical. Colin takes it as the invitation it is, adds a third finger.

"So tight," Colin murmurs, twists his wrist, presses his fingers deeper. "So hot. You're going to feel amazing around my cock."

"Fucking Christ," Bradley gasps, grinds himself down on Colin's hand.

Colin's eyes are locked on his face as he pushes even deeper, burying his fingers to the knuckle. His wrist turns again and suddenly Bradley feels sparks of white-hot pleasure spread through him. He cries out, digs his heels into the mattress. Colin doesn't stop, rubs the same spot again and again. He takes his other hand and wraps his fingers around Bradley's cock, strokes.

It's too much, Colin's fingers inside him and around him, and Bradley shouts, comes and comes until he's nothing more than a boneless mess spread out on the bed. His breath is ragged, limbs heavy, stomach and t-shirt covered in thick, warm fluid. Colin carefully pulls his fingers out and reaches for the bottle of lube, spreads some over his cock.

He pushes his cock into Bradley in one long stroke, until he's balls deep, both of them groaning loudly. Colin pauses, and yes it hurts but it's nothing Bradley can't handle, so he reaches up and places one hand on the back of Colin's neck, pulls him down into a fierce kiss. When they break apart, breathless, he rolls his hips upward.

"_Fuck me_," he demands.

Colin makes a strangled noise, pulls out and then slams back in. He sets a steady pace, hips snapping over and over, cock sliding in and out. They're both gasping, and Colin places his hands on Bradley's knees, lifts his legs and spreads him open further. His hipbones press hard into the back of Bradley's thighs as he thrusts.

Bradley is only half-hard but he doesn't care. Colin is fucking him, cock hard and deep inside his arse. He's staring down at Bradley, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a tiny ring of blue around the outside. His hips stutter, rhythm faltering, and Bradley pulls him down for another hard kiss. Colin groans, pushes deep, deeper, gasps Bradley's name against his lips.

~*~

Bradley wakes late the next morning, arms full of Colin. He smiles, runs his fingers through tousled black hair, presses a kiss to slightly parted lips. Colin makes a sleepy noise and shifts closer, turns and slides one arm over Bradley's waist.

They go back to sleep.


End file.
